


counting the hours (with nothing to say)

by orphan_account



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Character Study, F/F, Phone Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Touring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15182729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kat's selling out shows with her best friends, music is taking her places she never thought it would, but sometimes she wishes she could slow it all down to have a few more moments with Adena.Band AU.





	1. Chapter 1

Some days Kat feels like she was born with a bass in her hands, the thwap and slap of the strings synced up with the beating of her heart. Nothing compares to the rush she gets when she cobbles the right notes together to create something fresh as hell.

Nothing except for the way she feels with Adena nestled in her arms. That comes pretty fucking close.

If she’s being honest the bass was her first love but Adena? She brings it all home.

She is home.

Which is why touring sometimes feels like the most isolating shit in the world. She’s cruising around the world with her two bests friends and sometimes she feels so alone she could scream. Sometimes she does actually scream, much to the chagrin of the innocent patrons of the hotel they’re staying in that night.

There’s FaceTime, there’s calls and texts and any number of modern forms of staying in touch with people. And best believe, Kat makes use of them all. But it’s not the same, it’s never been the same.

She can see Adena, she can hear Adena, but it’s torture unless she can feel Adena. Touch her the way that she craves touching her.

There’s no type of media social enough for that.

Kat looks at the time on her phone, it’s already after 5. Adena’s probably just getting ready to head out for the night. Maybe a gallery or dinner with friends, Kat’s not sure. It’s been a hectic few days and they’ve barely exchanged a text back and forth.

They’re in Denver, wait, no, Denver was two nights ago. Phoenix, they’re in Phoenix. Of course, red rocks not Red Rocks. It all blurs together after the first couple tours. Melds into a mush of places and people screaming their adoration at you and throwing their clothing at your feet like weird, weird tokens of affection.

(Sutton has a collection of all of the weirdest things that have ever been thrown at them, Kat just donates all of the bras to a women’s shelter and moves on.)

Right, Phoenix. In the heat of the summer. Who schedules an outdoor music festival in the middle of the summer? Kat’s going to melt and she’s definitely going to start fighting Alex harder on their schedule from now on.

Starting next tour.

Kat only remembers that Arizona is weirdly on Pacific time sometimes and weirdly on Mountain time other times and she’s not sure which of those times is which.

The door to her room flies open and Sutton comes barreling through like the hurricane of a person she is. “Should I wear my short shorts or my shorter shorts?”

Sutton holds up two slips of fabric that only qualify as shorts insomuch as Sutton is referring to them as such. Kat’s worn lengthier boxers.

Kat recovers from her minor heart attack to give both options a good look. “Go shorter or go home.”

It’s gonna still be over 100 degrees once they get on stage, might as well play in their underwear. If anybody could pull it off, it’s Sutton. If anyone has the confidence to wear the hell of it, it’s Sutton.

“You’re the best!” Sutton preens and whips out of the room the same way she came, chaotically.

She checks the time and realizes that if Sutton’s getting ready, it’s definitely time for Kat to get her ass moving. With a sigh, she gives up on all hope of talking to Adena tonight.

Kat's selling out shows with her best friends, music is taking her places she never thought it would, but sometimes she wishes she could slow it all down to have a few more moments with Adena.

There’s always tomorrow.

*

The adrenaline flows through Kat’s veins and she can’t get it to stop, wouldn’t want it to stop if she could. There’s something primal about being on stage in front of all of these people. 

You’d never know it now as she loses herself with a couple thousand of her closest friends but Kat was a shy child, introspective to her own detriment. As the only child of two psychiatrists, she couldn’t get out of her own head. And when she could, she couldn’t get her parents out of her head.

Then she picked up her first bass.

The way Kat remembers the story it was some sort of musical immersion program in her fancy schmancy private school. A way to ensure the children of the well-to-do remained connected to the arts. In her more cynical moments, Kat realizes it was more of a way to ensure the children of the rich remained affluent patrons of the arts.

Money, money, money. Must be funny, in a rich man’s world. But that’s a different song.

Either way, it was love at first pluck.

There’s something ethereal about the moment when she looks out at the crowd and sees the power that her fingers and her voice has on all of these people. It was powerful when they were playing for crowds of 50 people in grungy New York City dive bars (even when they had to dodge bottles and once had to break up a whole ass fight) and it’s still powerful now that her name is an actual google result (not that she googles herself too often, she has some desire for sanity).

It’s wild to think that all of these people are coming together to share in their music. That they’re coming together for just a snapshot in time to feel the things they felt when they wrote the songs in the first place.

She’ll give her shrink parents this much, at least all of that emotional shrinking down gave way to a knack for writing down all her feelings. Set to music, it’s worked out quite well for her.

The song ends and Kat tilts her bass up into the air with flourish before tilting it back down as Sutton hammers out the closing notes on her Gibson guitar, really laying it on thick with the reverb but the crowd is eating it up.

“This is a sexy, sexy crowd,” Sutton yells exuberantly into the microphone, turning to laugh with Jane and ham it up a little. Kat takes a moment to grab a sip of water.

They don’t really have a lead singer. That’s one of the things they agreed on way back in college when they first formed The Bold Type. They all sing, they all write, so early on they figured out a solid ‘if you wrote it, sing it’ policy that’s worked out quite well for them.

Sweat drips down her forehead and she uses the towel hanging on her mic stand to pat it down. She didn’t even bother with makeup tonight, she’d just sweat it all off anyway.

Even though she’d gone the Sutton route and worn the shortest shorts she could find and literally just her bra as a top. She’s still sweating like she might melt.

Sutton gives her a look and Kat leans in to her mic and smiles at the immediate reaction from the crowd. She hears a few stray ‘I love you, Kat’ screams.

“You guys ready to sweat your asses off?” Kat smirks at the resulting roar. “I better see dancing, guys.”

The crowd throws their hands up in agreement and Kat figures she shouldn’t torture them any longer.

“Alright, alright, I believe you guys,” Kat adjusts the mic a bit. “This one’s called Forever!”

Angie, their tour drummer, counts off the beat and they launch into the song.

“Hey you!” Kat drawls, bouncing a little as she fingerpicks the notes. This song always makes her want to bounce around like a muppet. She looks over and sees Sutton doing exactly that. “Remember me? Remember love?”

Kat shimmies her shoulders as she sings and remembers when she first wrote this song in a dramatic moment after her first major fight with Adena.

It’s funny how she remembers the feeling more than the content of the fight itself. In the moment it’d felt like the most important thing in the world. Hell, in the moment Kat was sure they were about to break up and that was that.

She’d stormed out of her own apartment and left Adena standing there. Kat remembers making it halfway to the tiny apartment Sutton and Jane were sharing at the time before she couldn’t take it anymore. She ducked into a coffee shop, pulled out the little notebook she never went anywhere without, and scrawled out the entire song in a couple of hours.

By the time she was done, the coffee shop was closing and she’d written what would become their first single to get radio play.

But she didn’t know that at the time. All she knew was that Adena wanted more out of her than Kat felt like she could give. In that moment, Adena was the sun and Kat couldn’t stand to look into it for more than a few moments at a time.

“Go go go go get out, get out of my memory,” Kat closes her eyes and let’s the chills wash over her. “No no no not tonight, I don’t have the energy.”

Kat finally made it to Sutton and Jane’s sometime after midnight and all she needed was a group hug before she broke down. The release of putting down everything into words crippling her defenses to any act of basic human kindness.

When she got home the next morning, Adena was still there sleeping on her couch, curled up around a pillow with her hijab off. It was the most open and vulnerable Kat had ever seen Adena. She had a strange feeling like she was intruding in her own home.

Her first instinct was to turn back around and leave. Go back to her friends and wait it out until Adena left and Kat didn’t have to deal with it. 

But Kat just stood there, frozen in front of her own door. Waiting. For what? She didn’t know then and she still doesn’t know now, really. Something just told her to wait and she did.

Adena woke up and looked at Kat with such trust and openness. The kind of look that made Kat want to give Adena anything she wanted or needed. The kind of look that goes straight to the heart.

Kat felt like a stranger in her home when she sat down next to Adena but then Adena reached out and clasped both of Kat’s hands. The conversation stilted with Adena guiding the way and Kat not quite being able to follow. Kat could always write down her feelings but she had a harder time speaking them plainly.

She could tell Adena was getting frustrated and Kat was frustrated that it’d been so easy to write and so hard to say. So she said fuck it and pulled out her notebook and showed Adena.

She showed her the song she’d worked on after their fight and fought down that flutter of noxious anxiety that always bubbled up when she was truly vulnerable.

But then Adena broke Kat’s expectations, shattered them like she loved to do. She thanked Kat for letting her in. She kissed her and Kat knew in that moment that she’d always fight for Adena. Even if her fighting looked different than Adena’s. 

She didn’t show the song to Jane or Sutton until a month or so after she and Adena worked it all out. It always felt too fresh, too raw to accept any other vision but her own. Every time she thought about it she felt the weight of that first fight and it was too much.

Kat envisioned the song as a ballad, something slow and mournful to fit the way she felt when she wrote it.

Sutton read it and immediately saw a bop where Kat could only see pain. And seeing the crowd bumping against each other, joyfully slinging their hands up in the air, bouncing an inflated beach ball into the air, Kat’s so glad that she listened.

The final chord rings out and Kat beams out at the crowd. They keep screaming long after she’s done and Angie plays a little riff on the drum to egg them on. Kat gives them a dorky little bow and brushes off Jane as she gives her an exaggerated wink from across the stage.

A couple hours ago Kat couldn’t even remember what city she was in. But when she’s on the stage, she’s never lost.


	2. Chapter 2

“Twitter is literally blowing up right now,” Jane shoves her phone in Kat’s face from her seat next to her.

“I am literally trying to sleep right now,” Kat takes the phone anyway and squints at Jane’s mentions. “Oh shit.”

She laughs and sits up from her sleepy slouch. “We look so hot.”

“You and Sutton do,” Jane crosses her arms and pouts. “Why didn’t I get the skimpy outfit memo? Friends don’t let friends be the only one in a billowy schoolmarm shirt. I can’t handle being a meme again, Kat.”

Kat chuckles. She has fonder memories of Jane’s time as an auto-tuned meme than Jane does. Now that was a bop.

“Don’t fret, Tiny Jane, you’re still the cutest and the tiniest of us all. Don’t let your mentions get you down,” Kat scrolls through a couple more tweets, scrolling until she hits an inappropriate one and takes the time to block that before Jane has to deal with it.

Kat has filters upon filters on her social media accounts. It’s a highly filtered version of reality but for the sake of her sanity, it’s required. Jane likes to take it all in, she and Sutton are soul sisters like that. Kat’ll leave the shipping and the ‘mom’ tweets to those two.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jane gives Kat a kiss on the forehead as she takes her phone back and settles back into her seat.

“Facts,” Kat nudges Jane and closes her eyes.

Trying to get sleep on the road is like trying to thread a needle with a blindfold on. Sure, it’s possible. Technically. But is it probable? Not in Kat’s experience.

Moments after the encore, like, literally moments after the encore Alex had swept them away into a car to take them to the airport. They don’t even get another night in Phoenix to sleep it off before they’re whisked away to LA to do back to back shows. At least they got to change into their travel clothes in the bathroom at the airport so they didn’t look so sweaty chic.

She’s lucky, she knows they’re so lucky to have to cram extra dates into their calendars because they’re selling out venues. But sometimes she wants to rest or have time to take it all in.

It barely feels like they’ve hit their cruising altitude when the pilot informs them that they’re making their initial descent into LA. So much for a bit of sleep.

Maybe when she’s dead.

Or over 35.

Instead Kat takes a sleepy looking selfie. Technically a couple sleepy looking selfies until she finds one that looks nonchalant enough. Like some sort of selfie taking fairy appeared to take the most natural airplane selfie in the world and then poofed into thin air.

As soon as they land she sends the selfie to Adena with an upside down smiling emoji and a kiss. It’s just after midnight on the west coast so it’s past 3am in New York but Kat needs to feel connected somehow. Even if there’s no response for hours.

After Alex bundles them up in a car heading to the hotel, Kat decides to post the picture on instagram as well. Sometimes her fans are incredibly thirsty, like, middle of the desert mirage type thirsty. Sometimes it puts Kat off — not like she isn’t aware she’s beautiful, she’s not that aloof — but it’s just this endless wall of barely earned affection. Enough to be disorienting.

But sometimes when she’s been on the road for weeks she needs that wall of affection to remind her why it’s all worth it. Why it’s worth missing Adena, why it’s worth feeling so tired that she’s not sure how she’s still going. She loves her fans who leave her thirsty comments or heartfelt comments about how Kat being out has helped them come out, two sides of the same helpful coin.

She leans her head back on the seat and closes her eyes. Kat can almost picture how amazing it’s going to be to sink into a nice warm bed.

“Are you coming with?” Sutton asks.

Kat snaps her eyes, knowing she’s missed a huge chunk of the conversation.

“To?”

“Brooke invited us to this super exclusive party at some record exec’s house in...” Sutton scrolls through the texts on her phone. “I don’t know the area but it’s super swank, I’ve got the address.”

This is the part they don’t tell you about when you’re dreaming of being a rock star as a kid. Sometimes there’s nothing you’d rather do than sit in your hotel room and wear super frumpy pajamas and gosh, just fucking sleep. But instead of getting to do that, you play a show in Phoenix and then the second you touch down in LA you have to go schmooze with some industry types in hopes that people with the memory of a concussed goldfish don’t forget who you are when it’s time to cut a new album.

Kat wants nothing more than to say no.

“Fine, yeah, I’ll come,” Kat massages her temple as the car drops them off at the hotel. “Can I at least rinse and change?” 

“I’m glad you said it,” Jane pokes her in the side with a smile. “Because I was gonna say it, you know, if you didn’t.”

Alex greets them in the lobby with the keys to their rooms and a bellhop with a cart full of their luggage.

She gets to her room and immediately indulges in a bed flop. It’s just as comfortable as she imagined it might be. Her muscles are screaming at her to stay, to shirk her responsibility and rest.

Kat barrel rolls out of the bed and forces herself to undress and head to the bathroom.

She covers up her hair and jumps in the shower, at the very least she wants to wash the caked on sweat off of her body. When it’s all said and done she’s picked out one of her favorite blazers over a silk button down with her favorite pair of black jeans.

She meets the girls back outside and they’ve both gone with their version of a little black dress.

“Who’s ready to pretend you care about the opinions of some rich white dudes?” Sutton faux-whispers.

“And rich white ladies,” Jane adds with a laugh. “Hashtag feminism.”

Kat rolls her eyes, “Hashtag white feminism.”

They’re long past the days when a comment like that would have sent Jane into her feelings for days. Jane gives her a side hug as Sutton leads them to the car.

*

Kat doesn’t recognize the music pumping through the speakers but it’s slick and vaguely electronic but not electronic enough to be EDM. Mostly it feels like a steady thump thump thump reverberating through her body.

Sutton branches off to try and find Brooke and Jane sees some guy she used to date for a week a couple years ago and starts chatting away. This leaves Kat alone to navigate through throngs of people.

She figures if she’s going to make it through this she’s going to need a drink. Since parties never really change no matter how rich the person throwing them, she finds the bar in the kitchen. Granted, there’s an actual bartender and it’s an actual wet bar but some things never change.

“Whiskey neat,” Kat asks and has to force her eyebrows to stay in place when he pulls out a bottle of top shelf Woodford Reserve and pours her a generous three fingers. He hands her the glass with a small cocktail napkin and she tips him five dollars.

With alcohol in hand she searches for a corner she can hide in until it’s time to go.

She refills her drink once, then twice as she settles into a routine of people watching.

The songs blend into each other, one after the other of the same genre blending nonsense. Like someone with the elegance of a drunk bear beat up a synthesizer and somebody actually paid them to do it.

At least there’s always brown liquor.

“Kat Edison!” Kat looks up from her liquor to see Brooke pushing her way through the crowd to get to her. She sighs, this was always the risk of going to a party Brooke invited them to. That she’d actually have to see Brooke.

Brooke was Sutton’s bad news friend and Kat had always vaguely tolerated her with the promise that if she took Sutton too close to the edge that she’d get to punch Brooke. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how annoying Brooke was being at the time), Brooke had never taken Sutton to the edge. But there’d been some close calls.

And now Kat’s trapped herself in a corner with Brooke encroaching.

“Sutton said you were here, she didn’t tell me you were hiding,” Brooke envelops her in a hug, giving her a squeeze despite the fact that Kat makes no effort to hug her back. “Come on, gorgeous, there are people who you need to see you.”

Kat forces a barely not-fake smile onto her face and allows herself to be dragged around the party. Brooke only has two redeeming qualities — she seems to know every single person in the industry and she talks so much that Kat barely has to get a word in.

She lets herself get dragged around for what seems like hours but is more accurately an hour at most. Most notably Kat spends a solid ten minutes talking to Jacqueline Carlyle, the head of their label, who is very interested in the progress of their new album. Kat doesn’t have a career death wish so she makes up some bullshit about putting pen to paper, lyrics flowing like milk and honey.

The truth is she’s had writers block for months and Sutton and Jane don’t have much more lyrical clarity. But Jacqueline doesn’t need to know that. She’s kind and generous and always has an ear for the bands on her label but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t also have a pragmatic eye for business. As good of a person as Jacqueline is, she’s running a label not a charity.

She meets a few more guys who look old enough to be out of place at what is essentially a house party but rich enough that nobody is going to say that out loud. They make obscure talk about using some of their songs in commercials or on television. Kat politely gives them the space to feel like they’re being noticed and then lets Brooke pull her along to the next thing.

Brooke takes her to one final room and it’s not like the rest of their stops. Or any of them actually. For one, it’s filled with drugs and the people doing them.

“As a reward for being show-ponied around,” Brooke waves her arm across the space of the room. “Anything you want, 100% off. I might even be able to work out a discount if you want to take some for the road.”

Kat’s eyes get wide as she surveys the room and sees Sutton in the back corner surrounded by a couple of women she recognizes and a few men she doesn’t. They’re taking huge rips from a bong and laughing as they pass it around.

No Jane in sight but that’s hardly surprising. Jane’s got this idealized version of fame that’s all glossy pages and fashion and fun. Drugs don’t really fit into the world she’s created for herself. She probably hasn’t made it much further than a few feet from the door where they entered, chatting amiably to whoever passes her by.

“I’m just gonna go over there,” Kat doesn’t address the second part of Brooke’s statement. In her mind there’s a clear division, if she does the drugs it’s fine. She’s just doing them, they’re just there in front of her. Once she buys the drugs it’s an issue. And she doesn’t have an issue. Doesn’t want one.

This is the part of fame she knew about. The part she digested in E! True Hollywood stories and the unauthorized rock star biographies she used to sneak read when she was a teenager. She’s got it all in control, Sutton’s got it in control.

They’re not Keith Moon, it’s just a little bit of weed, maybe a hallucinogen every once in a while. As long as they’re not shooting up or snorting anything, everything’s fine.

And that’s why it’s her little secret. She’s not like some of these artists posting about it all over social media. She doesn’t really talk about it at all. Not even with Adena, who maybe wouldn’t care but they’ve got such little time anyway that Kat doesn’t want to waste it with any sort of tension.

Sutton sees her coming and smiles lazily, moving up onto the lap of some handsome looking guy to make room for Kat to sit.

“Heeeeey,” Sutton draws out, snuggling into the lap of the guy. He gives her a smile and they start making out. Kat rolls her eyes and accepts the bong when it’s passed to her.

She takes a huge rip and feels all of the tension melt away. Mixed with the glass of whiskey she had earlier her body just relaxes. One hit turns into a couple and she feels weightless, she’s in control but she doesn’t have to worry about anything.

Sutton’s giving up on smoking and has turned her attention full time to making out. She hasn’t noticed people refilling the bowl but it always seems green, like magic.

Kat closes her eyes and she’s no longer tired, she’s content. She feels a weight on her lap and peeks an eye open. There’s a woman, maybe Kat’s age, wearing a shimmery silver dress covered in sequins. The dress barely reaches mid-thigh and if Kat had more than half her mind she’d remember what’s wrong with this situation. As it is, she closes her eyes and waits for the bong to come back around again.

Her eyes close again forever or maybe minutes, it’s hard to tell. There’s a nudge on her shoulder and the woman on her lap is leaning over. Kat’s processing is slower than slow so she barely comprehends the shotgun until it’s happening.

She’s aware of how it looks and somewhere buried deep down in her sober mind she knows she needs to get out of this situation. But she’s only human and she’s lonely, the woman slips a hand inside Kat’s blazer to steady herself and Kat feels the touch burning through her shirt.

Their lips don’t touch but they come dangerously close. It’s a heady feeling and the woman pulls away with a dangerous looking smirk. Kat leans back and closes her eyes again, letting her body sink all the way into the couch.

The hand stays where it is. Kat feels the woman shift and she can’t help the electric that sparks in the pit of her stomach. She knows she should move the hand but it adjusts again. This time the thumb stroking small circles at the base of her rib cage. She can’t feel any tension, any stress, all she feels is the sinking weight of her body relaxing into this foreign touch.

Kat shifts, knowingly giving this woman more access to her side. Slowly the hand moves from over the side of her shirt and creeps just underneath putting skin on skin.

The woman traces patterns up Kat’s side and down, barely brushing the inside of Kat’s waistband - teasing but never crossing that line.

Kat has to forcibly remind herself that she doesn’t want more. That she shouldn’t want this.

The bottom button of her shirt gets unbuttoned and Kat feels the woman’s hand start to work the top of her pants.

Time stands still and Kat tries to snap out of this spell on her own but she’s struggling for strength. Right as the button pops open she feels someone shaking her shoulder. It’s Sutton giving her A Look and Kat manages to remove the woman from her lap with a mumbled sorry and extricate herself from the room with Sutton in tow.

She fumbles with the button of her pants and leaves the shirt alone. Kat’s hands stop shaking long enough to get her pants button done up and she shoves her hands in her pocket.

They make it outside to meet up with Jane.

“Kat,” Sutton pulls her around by her arm, forcing her to stop.

“Don’t,” Kat says firmly and pushes forward into the night.

Jane, in all of her wonderful naivety, pops out of the darkness — scaring the shit out of Sutton and Kat - and leads them toward the car. If she smells the weed on them she’s too trained in the fine art of ignoring realities that don’t fit into her world view to mention it.

The ride back to the hotel is silent. 

Sutton pulls Kat aside as soon as the enter the lobby. Jane gives them a ‘what am I going to do with you two’ look but keeps walking to the elevator.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sutton has a comforting grasp on Kat’s arm.

Kat shakes her head. “I didn’t do anything right either.”

Sutton sighs and pulls Kat into a warm hug. “Stop beating yourself up,” She pulls back and gives Kat a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep it off.”

Kat lets Sutton lead her arm in arm to the elevator. She makes it to her room and falls into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

When she wakes up in the early afternoon, she checks her phone and the memories from last night come flooding back. She immediately feels like an asshole. In her sober mind she thinks of every point that crossed the line and every point where she should have thrown up a huge stop sign. It didn’t go as far as it would have but it never should have gotten that far in the first place.

She checks her notifications. Adena’s responded to the sleepy selfie that Kat feels like she sent a lifetime ago.

**Adena** : (6:52am) _You are always beautiful but especially when I miss you._

**Adena** : (8:13am) _Do you have time to talk before your show? I miss your voice._

**Adena** : (3:31pm) _I am heading out for the evening, I hope we can speak tomorrow. I love you._

Kat types back _I love you too_ and adds a heart emoji like that makes it any better.

To add insult to injury she’s overslept and missed sound check as a perusal through a number of annoyed texts from Alex, Sutton, and Jane clearly let her know. They have an amazing crew on tour with them and Kat feels like she’s let them down too.

She takes a quick shower and throws on her clothes for the show, which is basically what she wore last night with a different blazer.

There’s a driver waiting to take her to venue and when she gets there she tolerates a solid hour of the silent treatment from Jane (always a stickler for protocol) before Angie forces them to sit in a Circle of Positivity and get over themselves before they go on.

The show goes off without a hitch.

So at least she’s got that going for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I'm at ambassadorofchill on tumblr and while feedback feeds the writer's soul do not feel pressured if that's not your jam. Hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank Mamma Mia 2 for giving The Bold Type a reason to let the ladies sing and give me inspiration to write again. Granted, this is not going to be as bubbly as Mamma Mia 2 but I do what I can. Some tags are for later on in the story. This is going to be fairly lengthy so I'll try to update as regularly as I can, but I make no promises for frequency (I've gotten myself in trouble in the past with that).
> 
> All songs in this fic will be Haim. Title song is Nothing's Wrong. Song used in this chapter is Forever.
> 
> I'm ambassadorofchill on tumblr, feel free to come and yell into my inbox - nice things, I hope.
> 
> As always comments and kudos feed the inspiration beast but legit no pressure.


End file.
